The Day After the Day After the Day After the Day After…

I temporarily settled in this ancient land for the same reason many foreigners have in the less costly places of Italy for the last couple of centuries. We came to a place where the sun shines on a country that is filled with history that isn’t our own. To be with people who have withstood sorrows and pain that are not our own. We come for the food that is always perfect and the scenery that keeps our minds off our troubles. We come for the generous spirit of the Italian people — and the women, whether they will admit it or not, come for the cheery, “Ciao, Bella” that comes ringing out from a smiling Italian man, willing to stop for a moment while harvesting his olives to admire her going by on her bicycle on an autumn morning. Italy is a place for non-Italians to heal and to thrive. For Italians, well, that’s another matter and another story.

~~ Quote from an essay I wrote in 2005, during my divorce and after GW Bush was reelected in 2004

November 12, 2016. I bought my Italian olive farm a year ago, little knowing that it would turn into a political refuge for me. This is not going to be a political blog but there is now a political element to my deciding to live at Fonte delle Monache (I’ll explain the name in full during a later posting — it is lovely — The Nun’s Spring) full-time after only planning to live here part time. If you support the man who is going to be president in January, you are welcome here. But understand that I hate everything that he stands for and that you will probably not be happy when politics comes up here. But again, you’re welcome. You likely need some information and education about the world.
As you know from the previous postings, I have wanted a little place in Italy for a long time and as you can see from the quote above, Italy has been an emotional refuge for me for a long time. But now it is going to become a sort of a home for me. And that is all right. It is a wonderful place. I’m not saying that the politics, or everything and everybody here are enlightened and perfect. But it is not my home and I do not expect as much from this place as I did from my America. So what you’re going to get here are my musings and my adventures at Fonte, Montefino, Italy and during my wanderings around the world, including visits back to the US to see my loved ones. And yes sometimes I will write about my angst and fears about what is happening back home. But mostly we’re going to have fun as I tell you about the amazing things that I encounter along the way. 

Italy is a magical place. It is a place where the sun shines most of the time – – and even when it doesn’t the scenery is so gorgeous, the food is so delicious and the wine is so intoxicating, that you don’t care. Also where the people have managed to stay sweet, friendly and kind, even though life has been unimaginably hard, off and on, for a long time. That’s more than I can say for a lot of places where I’ve lived.

Maybe the time here at my farm will soften me. But, the morning after the election, at the airport in Rome, when my Uber driver mentioned the election, I burst into tears and apologized to him –and the world. I was really sobbing. He apologized to me for bringing it up. Then he told me that other countries have elected worse people. After I choked out that “this is different,” he agreed. 

This working man in Rome, told me, “Yes – – America is must be a shining light and now it is only darkness.” 

That is it. Now it is only darkness. 

But he smiled at me and he told me “Benvento — Welcome to Italy. You will feel better. We will make you feel better!”

Even in France, when I encountered an Italian girl and her boyfriend who were sweet and kind to me, helping me with my bags (no French people helped, btw). I used one of my strategies for dealing with the next four years.  Et puis, maintenant, je serai Canadianne! 

“I’m Canadian, eh?” 

“What part of Canada?”

“Washington, DC.” 

“Oh.” 

Hmm…needs more work…

~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m going to have to figure out how to deal with the village in Montefino. I prepared by emailing my best friends to warn the villagers not to mention the election unless they want to deal with me bursting into sobbing tears. I guess we’ll see how that goes when I am well enough to finally go up to the coffee bar.

Right now, I’m just happy to be here at my beautiful farmhouse. I own it completely — no mortgage, no encumbrances and that is an amazing feeling. I have my residence visa and I will be applying for my residence permit to be able to stay for the year. After five years I will be able to apply for permanent residence. I guess we’ll see how 2020 goes. 

I will wander around and say hello to my Castilignese olive trees. Yes, I do that. I touch them and I look at them and I greet them. I am thankful that I own these beautiful 200+-year-old masterpieces of nature. I own them — or they own me. Sometimes I’m not sure which. 

I will pray at the Nun’s Spring grotto and I will try to ask Mother Mary to tell me why She has done this to my country. I will ask Her what lesson we need to learn from this devastation. I will be praying for peace and wisdom over the next four years. There has to be some reason that this is happened to us. Not the kind of thing that those awful backward preachers talk about like hurricanes being brought on by gay sex. But I do believe that things happen for a reason. I now have to figure out what we need to learn from this calamity that has happened.

And I will sit and listen to my fountain near the porch, as I gaze out toward the mountain range in the distance. I will listen to the drops of water fall and I will try to remember the good in the world.  I will try to remember that four years is but one drop of water in the river of life. There are others with more strength than I have that are going to fight to right wrongs and make things better. But I just can’t. I’m so tired and I just don’t have the strength. I’m just going to try to live a meaningful life here, I’m going to produce wonderful olive oil, grow delicious fruit and beautiful flowers and try to be a good person. I’m going to write about beauty and goodness and I’m going to give money that I have to those who are fighting the good fight back home and for the poor and helpless abroad, as I advise everybody reading this to do. Right now that’s all I can manage. 

Pace — peace. 

The Week My Dream Came True But My Heart Broke…

The story of how I finally got my lovely home in Italy will unfold over time, but the week that I found out that I actually was going to own the farm was also a week of heartbreak. My dog, my pet – – my companion of 13 years who had patiently waited for me to return from my trip visiting my new potential home in Italy, finally succumbed to cancer. It was less than a week after my return that I was petting him, and looking up at the blue sky as the vet made sure his departure from this world was a peaceful one, surrounded by those who loved him.

I’m crying right now as I type this. And I never thought that I would be the kind of person who would be crying and crying this way over the family dog. But I miss his eyes — the love that used to shine out of them. Eyes that showed love for me no matter what. That expressed a love that had no conditions. Big brown eyes that said, “I only want to be near you.”

But a week ago, the only thing that those big brown eyes said was, “I hurt.” He still wanted to be near me but I knew that he also needed me to let him go. And so I did. Sadly, he would not come with me on my next adventure. He would not come with me to the beautiful restored farmhouse in Italy where I had dreamed of him sitting next to me,  in the sun gazing at OUR  Olive Grove and at the view of the Apennine Mountains.

A few days later, my offer on the house that I had fallen in love with in Abruzzo, Italy, was accepted and I was ecstatic. I went from heartbreak to ecstasy so quickly that I almost was dizzy. But I knew that Scooby — yes, the kids had named him that as a pup — had loved me unconditionally and wouldn’t mind my going without him. After all, he had only ever wanted me to be happy. And, it made me happy to be the new owner of Fonte Monache — “The Nun’s Spring” farmhouse, in Montefino, Abruzzo. I will not take possession of it until the late summer or early fall but this is something I have dreamed about for so very long. And it has not been an easy journey either…but first, thank you Scooby. I miss you!